


Second Course

by danceswithgary



Category: Smallville
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Podfic, Podfic Available, Reconciliation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-13
Updated: 2007-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could the dream become reality?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Course

**Author's Note:**

> Podfic at: <http://www.audiofic.jinjurly.com/second-course>

_MACBETH: _Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!  
Macbeth does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep,  
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,  
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,  
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,  
Chief nourisher in life's feast

Act II Scene II _Macbeth_

 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent, but I show here that your reservation was cancelled yesterday." The clerk behind the check-in desk smiled apologetically at the frustrated man standing in front of her. She was surprisingly polite, considering the number of impatient people standing in line waiting to check in. "Unfortunately, we don't have any other rooms available due to the number of conventions in town this week."

Running his hand through his dark curls, Clark gave the clerk a pleading look. "Is there any place else you can suggest? I'm here for one of the conventions myself." He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses back up his nose and attempted a smile.

"I really think you're out of luck, sir. As a courtesy, I attempted to book another customer through our network a few minutes ago, and there just aren't any rooms available. I'm sorry." With a sympathetic shrug, the clerk dismissed the hapless reporter and gestured to the next person in line.

Picking up his small suitcase, Clark moved out of the way and stood against the wall, frowning. Normally, it wouldn't have been a problem. He would have shared a room with Lois, even though subjecting himself to her constant insults and smoking wouldn't have made it a pleasant stay. He suspected Lois' absence was the reason behind the cancelled reservation. They were both supposed to be covering the EcoTech Exposition being held in Las Vegas over the next three days. Their temporary demotion to the business section was due to Lois' latest error in judgment, which had resulted in the threat of a highly-publicized harassment suit after an anonymous tip proved to be wrong. As her partner, Clark had been included in the reprimand, even though he hadn't been directly involved in the ill-fated investigation. When Perry issued the assignment, Clark had winced, anticipating far too many days ahead with a foul-tempered Lois.

Lois had wiggled out of the despised assignment at the last minute, when she was notified that an interview that she had been trying to book for months, with one of the world's most reclusive billionaires, had finally been granted. Perry had waved her off to Gotham and in his usual raspy shout, informed Clark it was up to him to 'bring back some decent articles.' Grinning at the reprieve Bruce had conjured up for him, Clark had gotten back to his desk just in time to see Lois cancel her last-minute reservations online, and probably his at the same time.

Tipping his head back, Clark looked up at the ornate ceiling, trying to decide what to do next. He could attempt to find another hotel or motel with a room available, but if he believed the clerk, he wasn't going to be successful. Of course he could always fly back to Metropolis and sleep in his own apartment, but that was all he needed to make this fiasco complete, to be seen in Metropolis at the same time he was supposed to be in Las Vegas. He'd arranged to have his patrol covered while he was out of town, so he really didn't have an excuse to go back as Superman. If he wasn't careful, Wally might think Clark didn't trust him. Staying at the Fortress was his last resort. He reserved that particular torture for the direst emergencies. The constant struggle with the AI, because of his refusal to 'fulfill his destiny', left him seriously considering flying to another city and risking Superman being spotted where he didn't belong. Barring that, he was afraid that he was going to be reduced to finding a vacant park bench or leaning up against a slot machine in one of the casinos.

Clark let his eyes drift shut with a sigh, too tired to think of any immediate alternatives. He had really been looking forward to getting away from his adopted city for a few days, even if he was supposed to be working on a story. He felt like he'd been going non-stop for months, out patrolling when he wasn't working at the Planet, sleeping just enough to keep going, but never feeling rested. He hadn't even had a home-cooked meal in months, since his mother was too busy with her political duties to spare the time. When Lois had pointed to the travel reservations website, crowing about her extraordinary luck in booking two deeply discounted rooms, Clark had only been interested in the king-size bed listed in the room's amenities. Anything else Lois had babbled about the newest luxury hotel gracing the Las Vegas skyline had gone unnoticed. Now he mourned the loss of that big, beautiful bed, consigned to the bowels of online reservation hell.

"Clark?"

Clark knew that the voice penetrating the clouds in his exhausted brain was part of his dream, the one that had plagued him for months, taunting him with what might have been. A whimper escaped him at the thought of suffering through it again, listening to the accusations of deceit and avowals of hatred.

"Clark?"

The second time he heard his name, Clark also felt a touch on his shoulder, and he began to wonder if he would see expensive shoes and highly-polished floor tiles by his face if he opened his eyes. After all, that was to be expected if his knees had given out and he'd slid down the wall to take a nap in the hotel's foyer. The touch moved to his cheek with a light tap, and he managed to pry one eye open in self-defense.

"Lex?"

Clark's other eye joined the first, and they both widened as Clark realized he hadn't been dreaming, and his former best friend was indeed standing in front of him. The most amazing part was Lex's smile, teeth gleaming and blue eyes sparkling with humor. He was resplendent as usual in an impeccable black suit, a blue shirt contributing to the depth of color in his eyes. Clark found himself answering the smile with one of his own before recalling the last time they'd spoken. The bitter memory washed over Clark. His smile faded and he looked away so that he didn't have to watch Lex remember that he hated Clark.

"What are you doing here, Clark? Are you here for a vacation? Or did you and Lois decide to elope?"

Clark had thought he'd finally outgrown his tendency to flush with embarrassment, but apparently standing next to Lex had transported him back to high school, and he could feel the heat rise at Lex's gibe.

"Lois and I aren't together. I mean...we just...just work together. That's all."

Clark rolled his eyes at his inability to string a few well-structured sentences together so that he didn't sound like a complete idiot in front of Lex. Bending down, he picked up his suitcase before sticking out his other hand. "I'd better get going. It was good to see you, Lex."

After a perfunctory handshake, Lex frowned at Clark and then tilted his head in puzzlement as Clark stepped around him and began to walk toward the front doors of the hotel. "Clark, weren't you checking in?"

Clark stopped and sighed heavily before turning back around. "My reservation was cancelled."

Lex took a few steps toward Clark. "Did they find you another room? In another hotel?"

Shaking his head, Clark grimaced. "No, they're all booked, according to the desk clerk. There are too many conventions in town at the same time, and it looks as if I'm not the only one who may be sleeping on a park bench tonight."

The slight chuckle added to the end of Clark's explanation took some of the bitterness from his words, although the question of where he was going to sleep was still up in the air. Raising his hand in farewell, he began to walk away again.

"You could stay with me."

Clark stopped walking, but did not turn back to look at Lex. He couldn't believe that Lex would make such an offer.

"I have a suite. There should be plenty of room. I'm assuming you're here to work, so it's not like you have to spend an excessive amount of time with me."

Clark's shoulders slumped a little further as Lex made it clear it was only a bed he was offering, nothing more. His feelings about Clark had obviously not changed; he was just being the same Lex that Clark had known in Smallville, always trying to help people, even if they didn't ask for it. That particular Lex had been gone for months, at least where Clark was concerned. It was confusing to encounter him so far away from Metropolis, where the name Luthor was synonymous with royalty. Considering how Clark felt about Lex, any time spent with him would be torture, but Clark was inclined to accept it as punishment due.

Taking a deep breath, Clark turned back again and offered a grateful smile, too tired to do anything else. "Thanks, Lex. I'd appreciate that."

. . .

 

When Clark had heard the word 'suite' in conjunction with the name Luthor, he had expected more than one bedroom or perhaps more than one bed. At the very least, there should have been a sofa long enough to accommodate his lanky frame, not a less than helpful arrangement of frou-frou chairs and loveseats. The bed, the solitary there-is-no-other bed that Clark could see through the sliding bedroom doors, was enormous, piled high with pillows that were certain to be filled with the finest goose down and a duvet that looked like a cloud. Clark was just as certain the thread count on the sheets would be the highest ever achieved in the history of mankind and that those exalted lengths of Egyptian cotton would rival the finest silk.

Sighing, Clark dropped his suitcase next to the nearest loveseat and gingerly sat down, afraid that a careless movement would result in a pile of splintered wood and torn fabric. He could still see the beautiful bed from where he was sitting. Loosening his tie and the top button of his shirt, he slouched a little lower and rested his head on the back of the loveseat, frowning at the unoccupied bed that was rivaling the tortures of Tantalus, its comfort just out of reach.

Late for a meeting, Lex had handed him a keycard for the room, urging him to make himself comfortable. Lex had just arrived himself and had not been to the room yet, so Clark was willing to give him the benefit of a doubt and believe that Lex had not made the offer out of spite. He was sure Lex hadn't realized that the only place for Clark to sleep would be the floor. As his eyelids drifted shut, Clark chuckled at his unreasonable dismay. The lushly carpeted floor of Lex's suite would still be more comfortable than a park bench or even the dreaded Fortress.

. . .

 

Clark was enjoying this dream much more than the ones he usually had about Lex. Those nightmares would end in accusations, anger, and demands that Clark never speak to Lex again. Nothing Clark said could change how Lex felt, could mitigate the sense of betrayal that Lex carried with him like a shield against Clark's excuses. Each time was the same, Lex demanding that Clark leave his office and never return, Clark leaving defeated, silent in grief, knowing he'd earned Lex's hatred. Lex never heard his whispered apologies and pleas for forgiveness; those were simply a part of each night, and signaled the end of Clark's sleep.

This dream was quiet, no one yelling, and no bitter words. It was a quiet he never had these days, always hearing someone calling out, sirens wailing and people in need, but now it was peaceful. It was dark, with a muted glow, just enough light for Clark to see Lex sitting across from him, drink in hand, still and silent. Just he and Lex in the dark, reminding Clark of late nights at the castle back when they were still friends. They would sit on the floor with their backs against the couch and watch cartoons with the lights off, sound muted so they could mock the programs and talk about everything and anything that crossed their minds. The later it grew, the fewer the words, until they simply looked at each other and smiled, their signal to make their way upstairs to their separate rooms. He liked seeing Lex this way in a dream. He wished it would happen more often, and then perhaps he could sleep more than a few hours each night, and he would no longer feel as if he were about to fall off the edge of the world.

"I've missed you so much, Lex."

Clark prayed his words would not end the dream. They had slipped out before he could stop them, pushed and shoved their way out of a throat that choked on past falsehoods. He knew mere words would never be enough, yet in his nightmares, he never stopped trying until that door slammed behind him, cutting him off, breaking his heart once again.

Someone somewhere answered his desperate prayer and the dream Lex raised his pale hand to finish his drink, setting the empty glass down on the carpet by his chair. Tilting his head, he smiled at Clark, that lazy, sweet smile with heavy-lidded eyes that said it was time to go to their respective beds.

"I've missed you too, Clark."

The words settled into Clark's aching heart, and a small piece, the tiniest fraction, healed, if only in the dream. He returned the smile and waited for the dream to end, hoping it would be the only one to visit him that night. He was surprised when Lex stood and walked to his chair. He knelt in front of Clark, untied his shoes, and slipped them off along with Clark's socks, setting them to the side. Clark was puzzled because he'd never seen Lex do anything like that before and didn't understand why he would dream it now. Lex stood again and held out his hand.

"Come to bed, Clark."

Clark was still puzzled. Why would he dream that he and Lex were going to bed when he was already in bed? Was he going to end up dreaming about dreaming? Maybe it was like something out of an Escher drawing, where staircases flipped in mid-air or mirrors reflected back and forth into infinity and he would dream about dreaming about dreaming.

"I am in bed, Lex."

Dream Lex smiled again and shook his head before leaning over to grasp Clark's hand and pull up.

"No, you're not, Clark. Come on, it's late and we're both tired."

Not wanting to argue and risk a return to reality, Clark let Lex pull him out of the loveseat and stood swaying, waiting. Lex backed away, pulling Clark after him and through a doorway into the next room. Clark thought the room looked familiar, but he'd never seen a room like that in the castle or Lex's penthouse, so he must have watched a movie that had one like it and was using it in his dream.

It was the very best dream ever, a fantasy, because Lex began to unbutton Clark's shirt, pulling it out of his pants to get to the bottom two buttons. Lex shoved Clark's hands out of the way when he tried to help, his sleep-numbed fingers only slowing the process down. Unbuttoning the cuffs, Lex slid the shirt off and tossed it on a chair in the corner before tackling Clark's belt. Clark stood there, hands out at his sides as if he were walking a tightrope, while Lex unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped. As the loosened pants slid down his legs to the floor, Lex gave Clark the slightest shove in the middle of his chest, sending him backwards and onto the bed. As Clark sat there smiling, Lex lifted each foot free and the pants joined the shirt.

"Am I sleeping now, Lex?"

Lex looked up as he unbuttoned his own shirt and shook his head, laughing gently, just as he used to when Clark asked a silly question. Clark always liked that laugh and would sometimes ask very foolish questions on purpose, just to hear it.

"Not yet, Clark. You need to lie down first."

Clark frowned as he watched Lex take off his shirt and pants. The dream would have to end soon now and he didn't want to say goodbye to this Lex. It would hurt, maybe even more than the nightmares where Lex always hated him. This dream was tormenting him with what might have been, if he had chosen truth from the start. He had trusted Lex too late and would pay for that for the rest of his life. Dropping his chin to his chest, Clark looked down and tried to blink away tears.

"I don't want it to end, Lex. I don't want to wake up. It hurts too much."

Two pale, slim feet appeared in the space where Clark's eyes came to rest, and cool fingers combed through his hair, one hand urging his chin up. Reluctantly, he allowed his dream Lex to guide his head until their eyes met. The hand moved to cradle the side of Clark's face next, thumb slipping across his damp cheek to capture a falling tear.

"I won't hurt you anymore, Clark. I promise."

Surrendering, Clark let his eyes drift shut and laid himself down to sleep in his dream. His legs were lifted before he was tucked into a cloud. He floated, suspended, his limbs weightless as they skimmed over unrivalled softness. It was almost perfect, it lacked only one element, and then his head came to rest, just so, and then it *was* perfect and he drifted, content, soothed by the sound of a heartbeat.

. . .

_"You lied to me. Over and over. You treated me as if I were a criminal, someone to be frightened of, who couldn't be trusted."_

_"No, Lex. It wasn't like that. Not really. I was afraid, but...not of you, not of what you might do."_

_"You're still lying. I'll never be able to believe what you tell me from now on. I'll always wonder when the next lie will be revealed."_

_"Lex, please."_

_"Leave, Clark."_

_"Please. I love you."_

_"God spare me from this kind of love. It would most likely prove fatal this time."_

_"I would never hurt you, Lex."_

_"Too late, and yet another lie falls from that mouth. Get out. I never want to see your deceitful face again."_

_"No. Lex...."_

_"Security? I need you in my office immediately to escort an unwelcome party from the building. Also, I want you to take Clark Kent off the unrestricted list, and place him on the no access allowed, on all of my properties."_

"Lex!"

"Lex!"

"Please, Lex!"

"Hush. It's all right, Clark. I'm right here. Hush."

"Please, Lex. I love you."

"I know you do, Clark. I love you, too. Hush, everything will work out. I promise."

"You promise?"

"Yes, now go back to sleep. You need to rest."

"Don't make me leave, Lex. You always make me leave because you hate me."

"Hush, you can stay, Clark. You can stay forever. Sleep."

 

. . .

 

The skin under his fingertips was unbelievably soft. Clark couldn't believe how realistic the dream was; it was engaging all of his senses, and he was sure he would be floating by the end. He could swear he was surrounded by Lex's scent, that unique musky spice that always lingered in the air as he passed by. He'd always wondered whether Lex would taste the same, warm and dark with an edge, and when he tested his hypothesis, there was a low moan under his tongue, skin vibrating in response. He chased the sound to the source and found a different taste and texture waiting for him, moist, hot, a little sour that receded under sweet, smooth with a rasp, slick over sharp edges.

His hands wandered, finding slopes and angles, lines only guessed at under clothing that teased while it concealed. Another moan swallowed, consumed and returned as hardness met its match. Even in his dreams, Clark was careful, fearful of his own strength, reluctant to move as his body demanded. He rolled to his back and brought his dream lover, his Lex, over his body, pressed him close and felt his welcome weight. They moved together, his hands spread wide over the softness that covered steel. He felt the bite on his neck, then on his shoulder, but never a sting, no pain, only pleasure.

Touch, smell, taste, hear.

Clark had never dreamed like this before, had never felt so close to Lex. He arched up, carving his way against a soft belly, feeling the slick and the catch as the movement was echoed from above.

Touch, smell, taste, hear.

Something was missing. He needed one more sense to make it real. Make it real. Could it be real?

Touch, smell, taste, hear.

His fingers flexed and the speed and pressure increased until he was on the edge, skidding out of control.

Touch, smell, taste, hear.

He heard his name, _Clark_, and that _voice_, that voice that compelled him to open his eyes, to take a chance. He spiraled into blue and he soared, taking flight, together as if they had never parted.

Touch, smell, taste, hear, see.

It was real.

 

. . .

 

A low murmur of voices woke Clark. Disoriented, he rolled over and looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling, blinking slowly. At some point, the bed coverings had all been kicked to the foot of the bed. His arms and legs rasped luxuriously against the cotton sheet, full extension not reaching an edge and bringing a smile of contentment. He was exposed, naked, no barriers, nothing to hide and nothing to hide behind.

"Vitruvian Man."

The voice sent a shiver through Clark, and his body responded to the warm silken tones. He traced the patterns on the ceiling, sending his vision to follow each swirl to its conclusion, the texture grained and rough.

"Am I awake?"

The amused huff, arriving from somewhere beyond Clark's current range of vision, failed to answer the question, obviously deeming it too ridiculous.

"Was it all a dream?"

His hand lifted slowly from the sheet and passed down his center, seeking evidence that his dream had been more. It found none, his skin clean and dry, and his heart sank and he didn't think he could bear the loss.

"Do you want it that way? Do you want it all to have been a dream, Clark?"

Clark closed his eyes, willing the ready tears away. He struggled to keep his voice from betraying his pain.

"What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty. You didn't answer my question, Clark."

"I should go. I'll miss the convention's opening remarks."

"You're a day late, Clark. You've been sleeping for almost twenty-three hours. A little longer and I'd have just called it a day."

"I need to call...."

"You're sick and taking a week off to recover."

"I have to write...."

"Any interviews you require can be arranged after you've recovered. The majority of the convention exhibits are from either LuthorCorp or its subsidiaries. Wayne Industries holds the remainder."

"I should try to book another room. Maybe there have been some cancellations since yesterday."

"Clark, look at me."

"I didn't mean to kick you out of your bed, Lex. I'm sorry to have been..."

Clark heard the soft pad of feet before the mattress dipped slightly under a new weight. He clenched his fists and brought arms and legs together, shrinking back into the past, fearing to touch what had been denied for so long, all the while craving what he could not have.

"Are you going to answer my question, Clark? Will you look at me? Please?"

Clark wanted to believe that the rasp in Lex's voice was emotion, that it meant that Lex actually cared about what Clark wanted. His answer squeezed past a throat clenched tight against the cries of anguish that threatened to overwhelm him, the same cries that echoed in his room each night.

"No."

Warm breath chased across his shoulder and Clark felt Lex move closer, until strong, slim fingers were buried deep in his hair and he could feel the warmth of Lex's body just a motion away and wished for the dream, the wonderful dream where Lex no longer hated him, to return without his needing to speak.

"No, you won't answer my question, or no, you won't look at me, or no, you don't want this morning to have been only a dream?"

"Please, Lex."

Clark felt something warm and wet rasp against his stubbly jaw up to his ear. Teeth nipped before Lex whispered, and Clark shook.

"I'll tell you what I think, Clark. I think you want to be here, with me. I think if you didn't want _this_...."

Clark moaned when a hand swept down his body and settled on his hip.

"...you would have been gone before I walked back into this room."

The hand began to wander again, gliding, fingertips only, tracing lines immortalized in stone when gods walked the earth.

"I think you want what happened this morning to be real, _us_ to be real."

The hand in his hair left with a final sweet tug, and Clark whimpered at the loss. The bed shifted once more and Clark bucked up with a groan as he felt Lex's soft skin cover him, legs straddling hips, a warm cleft settling to press against his arousal, and hands mapping the planes of his chest. Clark felt Lex lean forward and felt the matching heat hard against his belly. Lex's words puffed against Clark's lips, lips that had parted on a gasp.

"Please, look at me, Clark."

Clark' s hands came up and cradled Lex's hips, holding on, hoping.

"I'm afraid."

Lex painted Clark's lower lip with the tip of his tongue before pulling back.

"Clark, you're the strongest being in the world. Nothing can hurt you. You have nothing to fear."

Clark's head tossed restlessly on the pillow, rejecting Lex's statement.

"You're wrong, Lex. Every day I wake up and I hear those words, and I get ready for work alone. I eat alone. I go to work where I try to care about something else, try to drown those words out with other words and I go home alone. I go out to fly and search and help alone. Finally, when I can find nothing else to keep me away, I go to sleep alone, and I dream alone, and I hear those words and it starts all over again. Every day that you hate me, Lex, it hurts, and I'm afraid that if I let myself believe what isn't true...."

The kiss was savage, biting, grinding down until Clark could taste Lex's blood. He arched, raising Lex up, and his hands left Lex's hips to cup his vulnerable skull as he tried to gentle Lex's assault. Lex laid himself flat and his hands sank into Clark's hair and yanked his head back, hard. He growled and bit Clark's jaw, and Clark groaned as he felt himself grow even harder than before.

"Look. At. Me."

That voice demanded obedience, the same voice that had compelled him to open his eyes, to take a chance. His struggle ended, he conceded defeat and his eyes _looked_.

"Oh, Lex...."

He read the truth and it burned into him, leaving him branded, owned.

"I need you. Inside me. Please, Lex."

Lex's face contorted as he struggled for control, his hips grinding down involuntarily. His eyes came back to Clark's, searching.

"Clark, have you ever...."

"No, never wanted it with anyone else. Only you."

Lex slammed his eyes shut and shuddered.

"God, Clark, what you do to me."

He began to shift off Clark, laughing when Clark wouldn't let go.

"We need something, Clark. Lube, condoms."

"No condoms. Alien."

"Still need...oh. Maybe not."

It was as if Clark were made for Lex, created to take him deep inside his heated passage, each stroke smooth, slicked, eased by the natural fluid that Clark's alien body produced. It felt right for the first time in so long, to be filled, gently at first, until Lex shifted, something deep inside Clark sparked and Lex found himself flipped onto his back, dizzy at the speed and then shouting as Clark slammed down. A few more bruising jolts and Clark was coming, head thrown back, fists pounding his own thighs with thuds that would have destroyed anyone else. Lex felt the clench and the release and joined Clark with his own shout of triumph.  
. . .

 

"This whole thing might have been a little easier if I hadn't woken up alone."

"Twenty-three hours, Clark."

Clark slid off the bed and set the tray that held the remains of their meal on top of the chest of drawers, before he turned around, grinning.

"That was a nice snack. What's for dinner?"

Rolling lazily onto his stomach, Lex pillowed his head on his arms and directed a wicked little half-smile at the naked man deliberately stretching in front of him, back arched and pelvis thrust forward.

"If you play your cards right, and this is Vegas after all, maybe you'll get dessert."

Clark's ready grin flashed.

"So we're going out after we take a shower?"

Lex chuckled.

"We showered right before we ate. Did you think you dreamed that too?"

Clark crawled back onto the bed and slid his hands along Lex's slim legs, those warm hands massaging gently from ankle to hip. Lex moaned in appreciation as the hands teased the ache from his lower back and then moved to his shoulders just before Clark carefully lowered himself down, providing Lex with a heavy, blood-heated blanket.

"I think we're going to need another one."

"My God, I've created a monster."

 

. . .

 

"Lex, I can feel you sitting there, staring at me, even in the dark. Why are you watching me sleep?"

"I'm not really sleepy myself. Besides, with light from the window I can see you just fine. You look good in my bed, Clark. You belong there."

"It's hard to believe I've really been sleeping that long. I don't remember the last time I slept more than a few hours at a stretch."

"You were obviously exhausted. You've been exhausted for months and still couldn't sleep. What changed?"

"I think that I knew I was with someone I could trust, Lex, someone who would protect me while I slept."

"Move over. The closer I am, the safer you are."

"My hero."

"Shut up and go back to sleep."

 

. . .

 

"I have to go back, you know."

"It's only been three days, Clark. You have a week off. You're still tired."

"Not to the Planet. I have to...."

"No, you don't. Who do you think helped me arrange all this?"

"Maybe we should talk about what 'all this' means, exactly. What did you do, Lex? Book all the rooms in Vegas?"

"Not all. Just any that weren't reserved by the day you arrived. There really are several conventions going on right now."

"How could you be sure I was even going to be assigned...you didn't. Lex, we could have been fired!"

"It would have been her own fault because she cut corners when it came to checking her sources. You know that, Clark."

"You went to all that trouble and expense, set up a sting for Lois and then involved Bruce, just so you could get me into your bed?"

"Not my bed, Clark. My life. I didn't know how else to say I was sorry, Clark, if you'd ever forgive me. What I said to you that day was...."

"No, Lex. It was all my fault. I'm so sor...."

The hand that covered Clark's mouth was gentle, but firm. Lex grinned ruefully.

"Let's not argue about whose fault it was or who was to blame. Let's just say it's shared and be done with it. Agreed?"

Clark nodded and Lex removed his hand, replacing it with his lips. Drawing back again, Lex grinned.

"I do, however, stipulate that we should make it up to each other as often as possible for the next fifty or sixty years or so."

Clark's agreement was enthusiastic and required no effort to interpret, despite the lack of intelligible words.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [2007 Cuff 'Em, Vamp 'Em, or Just Make 'Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge](http://mfsd.talkoncorners.net/challenges/cuffem.htm) Many thanks to my betas, jakrar, bittermint and ferdalump!
> 
> Prompt: Sleep and bedding themes (sharing a bed by necessity, such as in a hotel with only one room left; sharing a sleeping bag for warmth; sex while drowsy or sleeping; sex as a sleep aid; autonomic arousal from proximity; morning wake-up sex, falling asleep against someone's shoulder; watching someone sleep; dreams; nightmares; dream lovers, e.g., succubi; exotic or romantic beds, e.g., canopied; furs as bedding; silk sheets)


End file.
